Freed From The Darkness
by Metiera
Summary: Paying homage to one of the most affecting events in "Into Darkness."


If he had lived, instead of his having embraced heroics to rescue _the many_, he would have heard Spock bray Khan's name. A faux-name, destined to be the definition of infamy. Jim would have marveled, seeing the tears in Spock's eyes cascade. Release is release, regardless of who does the crying, whether it emanates from a species that prides itself on suppressing emotions, or a species prone to venting them like hazardous waste.

"_The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one_…"

Not once, not ever, had James T. Kirk felt the need to apologize for being human. He'd taken immense pride in having emotions, erring on the side of volatile. The point was moot; he had been a paradox. Having felt deeply about hosts of things. It was homo sapiens' genetics, Spock wrote off. Jim's emotions fueled him, like nuclear energy fueled _Enterprise_.

Without those indispensable dilithium crystals, where would any self-respecting crew of Starfleet be? Marooned in space, that's where.

Without Jim having had such strong emotions, where would the crew be this very moment?

Dead, as well.

Power didn't come cheap.

Neither did powerlessness, which was how Spock had felt, watching life drain from this illogical man. A man he couldn't bear losing. A man who had thrown caution to the wind, as humans would say, to save this vessel and the lives this technological marvel supported. A man, who in the little time he'd known him, had become an integral facet of his life.

A staple…

Why couldn't he have saved him? Lethal radiation, plain, but never simple, had removed saving Jim from the equation. The man who used to regularly scoff at fear had uttered those three fateful words before he perished: "I'm scared, Spock."

The Vulcan's own words: "I'm failing," stab him to the heart.

Spock knows he will hear them unfailingly until the day he is no more. Hearing them repeat in his mind weakens him, renders him as debilitated as when he'd witnessed the death of his home-world, his mother part of the bitter harvest.

He can't peel his eyes away from the fallen captain's inert form. Spock's acute hearing alerts him to Lt. Commander Montgomery Scott's presence at his back. The man is wailing, mourning the incredible loss while nursing his throbbing jaw. Kirk had a wicked right cross.

Spock is fully cognizant of how illogical it is that he remain in this position with his hand still affixed to the chamber. Jim is gone. Try as he does, his four fingers won't budge after Jim's fingers had fallen away in death. It's quite possible that Spock's are set that way, permanently. On and on, they will hold the Vulcan gesture for 'live long and prosper,' to time in memorial.

In memory of an unexpected _friendship_, dedicated to his _friend_, Captain Jim Kirk, the ally from out of the blue, Spock reflects as scads of memories resonate. Kirk had earned his respect and had thoroughly strained his ability to keep it intact for him at the same time. Jim had been an enigma, and how Spock _hated_ having to think of him in the past tense.

Unwanted feelings swamp Spock. Closing his eyes, he labors to center himself. There's no time to meditate.

His eyes open to personnel in hazmat suits lifting Kirk out of the chamber. Spock sees the care involved in the process of removing the body. It is then that he is aware of Nyota beside him.

In certain African languages, namely Swahili and Lingala, the meaning of her name is star. It is what she has become to him. She guides him.

Presently, Spock senses her shock, her immeasurable grief. What to do for her escapes him.

Her voice is hushed as she speaks. "I'm so, so sorry." Then, she chokes on further words. Her throat is killing her. Tears well up. All she can do is stare at the deceased rake, the masher and…she can't help but admit…loveable roué. Now, he's the former commander of the _Enterprise_, who had once tried to pick her up in that dismal dive in Iowa, near the Riverside shipyard, and had nearly gotten his brains beat out by those bloodthirsty cadets.

The incident seems centuries ago. Nyota snuffles. Then she can't help but recall when he had hidden in Gaila's and her room. He'd gotten quite an eyeful, having seen her once she'd stripped down to undies. Nyota snuffles some more. Even under those ticklish circumstances, Kirk's innate intelligence had shone through. He had known that the 'distress signal' had been a trap, one Nero had set.

Only now Nyota will admit how cute she had thought he'd been back then. How cute he was, whenever he had winked at her in passing aboard ship. Despite his colossal nerve to have thought that she would have been interested in someone as impossible as he, regardless of how smart he was, he had definitely been someone special, _all kinds of exceptional_.

Uhura can't believe he's dead, can't believe he could have been so reckless and so astonishingly brave, risking his life to save them all. She will never forget James T. Kirk as long as she lives. She wouldn't know how to begin.

Spock actualizes himself, prepared to undertake whatever needs to be done, which is a little ambiguous at the moment.

He has never felt his emotions running riot like this, so high, propulsive—ungovernable. And, he has vowed to prevail, sworn to his cause. To _avenge_ Jim Kirk, Spock is dead set on pulling out all the stops. If Khan survives the ridiculous descent from the sky, Spock will bring him back here. He won't get away. According to word from the bridge, the scary 'loose cannon' is presently jumping from the crippled Dreadnought-class vessel, the _USS Vengeance_. The destroyed beauty, too deadly to have been allowed to remain viable, is smoking, crumpled wreckage, a heap amidst heaps of rubble.

The 'anomaly' isn't dead.

Spock's mission is clear; failure isn't an option.

"Go," Nyota orders. "Get _**him**_!"

Spock bolts before she has a chance to give him a proper kiss for sealing certain victory. His face is expressionless, his resolve metallic.

Owing to the wealth of sadness hanging over everyone, Dr. McCoy's eager words about saving Jim, justifiably, have not registered. No, not at first proclamation. The crew is too caught up in feelings of deep loss. Bones' bark fills them with hope that has potential for becoming replete. There is this wild chance that Kirk might be saved. The possibility lies with Khan. The superhuman's blood could hold the key to Jim's restoration. McCoy has pledged to synthesize Jim's cure from the rogue's mysterious blood.

Since Spock is down below, he is unaware of the thrilling medical development. He runs after Khan like he's chasing the wind. Finally, atop one of the city's refuse removal transports, the pair of embattled warriors square off as though there are no other life forms existent in the universe. They are primed for war.

The battle begins, with lives, as always, hanging in the balance...

Nyota never thought she would be joining the fight until it proves necessary to beam down to lend her assistance. No one is killing her man today! And they need the great man they've lost with them once more. Kirk would do the same for any one of them. Nyota is poised to do her part.

Atop the 'garbage truck,' where the battle rages, Spock is handling it, but not as aggressively as he should if he wants to vanquish this close-to-impossible-to-stop 'scourge.'

Khan is just as determined to evade his being captured as Spock is of securing it.

The incensed Vulcan is down! Khan is single-minded, determined to beat him to mash.

Nyota fires her phaser. Enraged, Khan lashes out, coldly distracted. Spock seizes the opportunity to get the upper hand. He also sees that if Khan gets his hands on his _komihn_ female, she's dead.

_Unacceptable_ storms through Spock's turbid mind. His adrenaline is toxic. The green in his veins boils.

"Spock—Stop—Stop!" Uhura screams. "We need him! He's our only chance _to save Kirk_!"

Neither Spock nor Nyota meet with an untimely end. Khan has met his match, one vengeful Vulcan.

Aboard _Enterprise_, Khan is where he belongs, rejoined with the rest of the seventy-two, who continue to sleep on as they have since time immemorial in cyrofreeze. The would-be conquering 'hero' is fast asleep, in bondage to slumber.

Wiser minds will decide what is to be done with these dormant curiosities.

Jim Kirk has his life, his ship and his friends back, as he rightfully should.

Five years is a long time. He can live with that, so can his loyal crew, as hungrily, they boldly go where no one from Earth has gone before.

Into the darkness, with brilliance lighting their way.

End.


End file.
